


Borders

by tatooedlaura



Series: Life [33]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-06
Updated: 2017-01-06
Packaged: 2018-09-15 06:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9223952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatooedlaura/pseuds/tatooedlaura
Summary: Border crossings can be hell ...





	

Scully’d just spent two hours emptying the car and having it searched by drug-sniffing dogs because the border police took one look at Mulder’s nearly-expired Passport, Scully’s badge, Mulder’s badge, the gun safe in the trunk and demanded that Mulder hobble 50 feet from the car while Scully opened everything contained in the vehicle slowly and carefully.

She was not a happy camper once they finally made it across the border and no sooner did they cross than Scully pulled over at a rest stop, got out of the Jeep and began circling the parking lot, annoyed fury fueling her warp speed laps. Mulder thanked whomever might be listening that she had at least remembered to roll down the windows before she stormed away, otherwise he would have suffocated in roughly six minutes, given the temperature of the day. There was a convenient breeze however and he took advantage of it, settling his leg on the console between the seats and resting his head against the back passenger door.

This could be a long wait.

A very long wait.

Scully wanted to scream. She’d spent six hours getting them back to the border then another two with the customs agents. In the end, they’d thanked her for her patience and let them go, Scully nodding her head and being polite to a fault.

Until she’d gotten the door shut behind her, then the steady stream of expletives spewing from her lips would have made a sailor blush and her priest’s head explode. But Mulder simply sat back, enjoying his potty-mouthed partner disregarding English grammar and structure for a good old-fashioned run-on sentence where every other blessed word was ‘fuck’.

He’d have recorded it had he had a death wish but given he enjoyed breathing, he just shut his eyes and absorbed it into his memory, fully ready to repeat it to the Gunmen the moment he got home.

Now, she’d been gone nearly 20 minutes and he was almost asleep when the door opening made him jump, twitching his leg uncomfortably but he kept quiet, waiting to gauge her mood before speaking.

She sat for a moment, then twisting in her seat, gave him a sheepish look that made him smile, “so, have you already called the Gunmen and repeated my little fit of insanity?”

Mulder shook his head, “nope. Gonna save it for live re-enactment after we get back.”

“I’m sorry I left you in here.”

“Took a nap. I’m good.”

Dropping her temple against the upholstered chair, “a nap sounds good. Wanna drive for awhile?”

“Sure. Can’t say I can get from the gas pedal to the brake in time to stop us from ending in a fiery death or being squashed on the highway but I’ll give it a whirl.”

“Remember when I thought you were sort of adorable in a sarcastic, cute kind of way?”

Sitting back up with interest, “when did you think this?”

“I take it back. All of it.”

“Wait, when did you think I was adorable?”

Turning wearily back to the steering wheel, “I’ve got a few more hours left in me then I’m done for the day. How are you doing?”

“You are avoiding my question.”

“Ask me in three hours.”

“7pm. Got it.”

&&&&&&&&&&&

She made it exactly 42 minutes before she forgot to pay attention to the road and drifted to the shoulder, setting off the rumble strips, “um, Scully? Ready to find a place to stay?”

“What gave it away? The yawning or the median wall getting dangerously close?”

“Both. We just passed a sign saying there’s a hotel at the next exit.”

“Sold.”

It was the fleabag of hotels, the armpit of hotels, the septic tank of hotels and Scully had never been so grateful to lie down and stretch out in her entire life. Her shoulders and neck were killing her, her head was pounding and her bones cracked with every movement, “Mulder?”

He was sitting in the single chair in the room, cast elevated by her suitcase, “yeah?”

“I think you’re sort of adorable in a sarcastic, cute kind of way.”

Mulder checked his watch, “you are hours ahead of schedule, young lady.”

“Whatever.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

He was getting better on his crutches and didn’t require bathroom assistance anymore, which was good, given he didn’t have the heart to wake her. After he returned to the bed, he settled beside her, staring openly at her hair spread on the pillow, tangled to wild perfection, curly, twisted, softer than anything he’d ever felt and he knew this because he’d just spent the last two minutes combing his fingers through it. He wondered for a moment if this made him stalker-creepy but given she tended to figure-eight his knuckles absently and invade his personal space with her frigid toes under his butt and thighs, he decided his actions were par for the course.

As carefully as he could, he turned on his side, leaving his leg on the ever present pile of pillows but able to see her better, which, in this second, was more important than anything else. Moving from her hair to her face, he glided his index finger from her hairline to the tip of her nose then shifted up to start again. Three runs down and he stopped at the soft juncture between her eyes.

Right there.

That’s where his life began, ended and functioned accordingly. A thing had grown there, inside, pressing on nerves and tissue, invading areas and stealing moments, hours, days of their existence. His life had ended the instant he read Oncology above the door in the hospital two years ago. He then slipped into another circle of hell when saw the look on her face, the resigned nature of the scientist who came to understanding through reason while he suffered the fate of an emotional wreck who didn’t understand anything but that she was going to leave him and he couldn’t scream loud enough to drown out the sounds of her dying, one cell after another.

His life was returned to him months later in the heartbeat second that she smiled at him from her hospital bed, the chip in place, the invader leaving, the hope returning. He’d reclined beside her after everyone had gone home for the night, her hospital cold feet tucked under his calves, her first true invasion of his space and what he fervently wished would not be her last.

He lived by that spot and what happened there. He worried over that spot, his spot, one of his many spots but the only spot that, in the end, would save him or kill her. Whole hand now on her cheek, he switched from index to thumb, smoothing down the eyebrows that bookended the most feared and cherished spot in his universe.

Scully started, her face jerking back slightly, escaping the warm invasion of his skin but recognizing Mulder’s palm after a second. In her sleepy way, she returned to his heat, taking a deep breath, eyes fluttering shut after she caught a glimpse of him, “you okay?”

He nodded, even though she couldn’t see him, then whispered, “yeah, just looking at you.”

“How can you see me in the dark?”

“It’s never too dark when I look at you. Besides, my hands know your face so well, darkness doesn’t matter.”

Utilizing only one half of their crappy-mattressed queen size bed, Scully wiggled closer, Mulder moving his hand from her cheek to her neck, her jugular pulse strong against him as his fingers lay over the smallest of bumps on her spine. Knowing she was already back to a sound sleep, his thoughts moved from the place of terror at the front of her skull to the place of life at the back.

He hated that chip and the people who deemed it necessary to play with her regarding it …

But he loved her too much to ever want it gone …

And he had absolutely no idea how he would ever sleep alone again.


End file.
